Your New Twin Sized Bed
by Anti-canon
Summary: Stiles' half empty queen-sized bed depresses him and for the sake of his mental sanity he decides he needs a down grade.


**A/N: What even is this? I honestly don't know. It was mostly written at odd hours of the morning and was just supposed to be a kinda cracky, fun ficlet. :P Anyways, I wrote it for n3vh33r4 over on tumblr, cuz her art makes me all kinds of happy. ^^**

**Based off of Death Cab for Cutie's Your New Twin Sized Bed (don't judge me, titles are hard).**

* * *

You're not really sure what possesses you to do it, though you think it might stem from that article in _People _magazine about creating a vision board, imagining your success and eventually it will come to you. But you'd only read that because you needed to distract yourself from visions of the dentist laughing sadistically as he saws into your mouth, and the waiting room only had that or _Highlights, _which had been your first choice until you realized some ill-mannered child had done all the word searches and matching games.

In any case, a brand-spanking-new queen sized now took up the majority of the bedroom in your new apartment and the sight of it is daunting instead of comforting. You know you're supposed to be thinking about the kind of guy that you want lying beside you each night as you sleep- that supposedly your dreams will manifest themselves as a wish, one honest enough to come true. Instead you stare at the empty side of the bed with a hollow gaze and ponder what will happen in the years to come when the right side of the mattress and box springs stay like new while your own is worn and losing any pretense of being supportive.

You think maybe that if you stop making it for two- only keep one pillow and lie in the center- then it won't seem so depressing, it'll be all kinds of awesome because the bed will seem endless and make the room seem plush. For a few nights it actually works, until you call the bed vast in your head, and then the stupid thing seems to stretch on forever, like a desert slowly sapping you of your strength as you desperately try to traverse its length. You start having nightmares about being trapped in that damned bed- looking frantically for anyone to come and help, but there is no one.

You move to the couch.

It's five months and three days later that you make the executive decision to get rid of the horrible thing. You no longer care that you spent eight hundred dollars on it, you ignore the voice in your head that sounds a lot like your dad saying 'quitters never win', and you try to work past the knot in your stomach that worries getting rid of the mattress means being alone forever. You storm into the room, tear at the bedclothes until they lie in a heap on the floor, and push, pull, and flip the mattress out the door and down the stairs.

By the time you've made it to the curb your face is red, your lower back is sweating profusely and as such has left a dark wet spot in your t-shirt, and the your chest is heaving like you've just ran a marathon. You toss the mattress to stand upright against a street sign and head back into the building to grab a sticky note and pen from the mailboxes, scrawling in sharp, angry strokes. When you stick the note to the side of the mattress facing the street you take a step back to admire your handiwork. Barely legible, the note says '_FREE- I hope you have more luck with it than me.' _

You're not really sure how you feel about it yet, knowing that once you go back inside and have to deal with the now empty room instead of one that is overfull. Idly you wonder if a twin sized bed will be any more or less depressing. Twenty minutes go by and you still haven't moved until you're shocked out of your reverie by a truck honking at you, pulling up as the driver leans across the seats to roll down the window nearest you. A stunningly gorgeous man scowls at you through it and waits until you're near enough to hear his low voice before speaking. "You've been standing here forever- are you interested in the mattress or not?"

His voice comes out practically as a growl and combined with the intensity of his glare sends a shiver down your spine. "Why do you need to know? Some kind of bedding emergency that requires you to commandeer this fine specimen? Lemme guess- there's a blushing maiden in desperate need to be bedded and only your fiery loins will do!" Stranger-Danger almost looks like he's going to crack a smile before he remembers he's trying to be intimidating and snarls instead.

"Yes or no, kid?" You give the mattress one last forlorn look before you step away and make a sweeping gesture towards it with your arms. SD rolls his eyes, but pulls over anyway and gets out to let down his tail gate before moving to stand at the side of the mattress. He reads the note and his eyebrows furrow before looking over at you.

You fidget with your hands for a few seconds and don't meet his eyes before shrugging and trying to laugh it off. "What can I say, size is everything and apparently king is the new queen. I'm ill-equipped! The fellas like 'em big." Your face heats up as SD continues to stare, face devoid of any telling expression. "I'll just-ah…." You thrust your thumbs in the direction of your building, slowly backing away, but unable to rip your eyes from the other man, caught up in the sharp line of his jaw, the endless jade mire of his eyes, and the small curve of his lips that might, maybe be interpreted as a smile.

"It's a shame you didn't keep it a little longer- I have a feeling its luck is about to change." You nearly trip over your own feet, but windmill and are able to keep yourself upright. Was that really-? Could he have-? What?! "My name's Derek, and if you ever get homesick for a familiar bed…" he gives you a lingering once over before stepping forward and stealing the pen from your hand to write his number on your forearm.

You know your mouth is hanging open and you're probably looking just unattractive enough to give Stranger Dan- _ahem Derek- _second thoughts. He loads up the mattress without looking back, but when he pulls away he smirks at you through the window and your heart flutters in your chest. Maybe that stupid thing worked after all.


End file.
